


Sixty Dollars and a Grad Student Zombie

by Tahlruil



Series: Things Clint Barton Has [1]
Category: Avengers Academy (Video Game), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Clint Just Wants to Take Care of Him, Coffee Addict Tony Stark, Human Disaster Clint Barton, M/M, POV Clint Barton, Protective Clint Barton, Student Tony Stark, Tony Stark Needs Sleep, tony likes cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 20:21:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13531836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tahlruil/pseuds/Tahlruil
Summary: Clint has always been a people watcher - he likes things better from a distance, after all. Hanging out in the Student Center with Nat supplies him with a primo lookout and fodder for stories. He's learned a lot about college students since they started hanging there - he can spot a freshman or a grad student from a mile away.One in particular has really caught his eye lately. Not because he's attractive - though he is - but because he's both adorable and clearly a Grad Student Zombie. It really gets his protective, mother hen instincts up. Clearly something must be done.





	Sixty Dollars and a Grad Student Zombie

**Author's Note:**

> Getting this fic up has been a fucking adventure, let me tell you. Posting from my phone, so please forgive any weird mistakes that might appear.
> 
> This fic was inspired by this prompt from [pennyforyourotp](http://pennyforyourotp.tumblr.com) onTumblr:
> 
> 'You’re a grad student that I keep seeing around campus and, frankly, you look like shit. How long has it been since you slept? Or had something other than coffee? Anyway, I’m taking you to breakfast and you’re not going to talk or stress about your dissertation and it’s going to be nice and relaxing.’
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy it!

“He just looks so tired, Nat. I wanna--”

“Bundle him in blankets and make him take a nap,” Natasha interrupted. She sounded both unimpressed and annoyed, which meant he really probably shouldn’t push the issue. Clint was reckless sometimes, but he wasn’t stupid. Well not when it came to interpreting Nat’s moods. Usually.

“Yeah,” he said instead of continuing to elaborate. The guy he was talking about was standing in line for coffee for the third time that day. Lounging around in the student center was a sacred pastime for him and Nat, which meant that Clint saw pretty much every poor schmuck that came around for their caffeine fix. He was a people watcher who made idle comments to Nat, who was using the time to do her reading assignments.

This guy, the one that Clint found particularly interesting to watch, was in line way too many times a day and had been for the past two weeks. Every day he had looked worse and worse; it was a trend that Clint, frankly, found concerning. Had to be a grad student - they always had an air of frantic energy beneath the cloud of exhaustion surrounding them.

It would be a lie to say he was sympathetic to their plight. Usually he found the whole thing kind of funny. Sure it was great that people were seeking an even higher level of education, etc. and so forth, but the way they ran themselves ragged to get it was kind of hilarious. Clint just didn’t really see the point, though the the way he kind of hated school probably meant he was biased.

But the guy he was watching was different. Clint could admit to himself, if not to Nat, that it was partly because the guy was kind of adorable. Well the first time Clint had seen him he had been really hot in a rumpled way. The third day though? That was the day the glasses made their first appearance, probably because staring at screens or even books for hours and hours at a time without sleeping tended to dry out your eyes. Dry eyes plus contacts were probably a bad, and so - glasses.

Glasses turned ‘scorchingly hot’ into ‘really fucking cute’, which was just unfair. Then - THEN - came the oversized sweatshirts, ones that covered the guy’s hands until he reached up to take his coffee. His hair went from sexy bedhead to complete disarray, and his shoulders seemed to be just a litte more slumped every time Clint saw him. The guy was adorable, over-caffeinated and exhausted.

So yeah, Clint wanted to feed him some real food then take him home to wrap him in blankets so he could take a nap. Maybe it was time to stop talking about it to Nat and do something about it instead.

”Hey, gimme forty bucks.”

”No.”

”Come on Nat! I’m broke.”

”You have four jobs. How is it you never have any money?”

”Pizza is expensive and I have a dog to feed.”

”You’re hopeless.”

”I know and accept this,” Clint told her with a sage little nod. He knew that he had won when he saw a tiny smile hovering on her lips. “C’mon. I know you make bank in tips where you work. Gimme forty bucks. I’ll paint your toenails for you for a month--”

”You would do that anyway.”

”You didn’t let me finish!” Clint protested, cursing the way his best friend knew him so well. “I’ll… uh… okay. I got nothing. Look, he’s almost at the front of the line, and that guy does _not_ need any more cafeine, Nat. He just doesn’t. So gimme some money--”

”You’ll owe me a favor. Anything I want, to be decided upon at a later date,” Nat said, finally raising her eyes from her text book to fix him with a keen gaze. “Deal?”

”Will this deal include burying dead bodies?”

”Haven’t decided yet.”

”Fair,” he agreed before holding out his hand. “Deal.”

Nat gave his hand a very business-like shake before reaching for her purse. “Because I plan on being a benevolent ruler, you may have sixty dollars. Buy him something pretty.” Clint made a face but still accepted the offered bills.

”Way to make it sound dirty. Can you take my stuff back to your place? I’ll pick it up later,” he added as he stood, knowing the ‘tut’ sound that she made meant ‘yes’. “Thanks Nat. Later!”

Clint nearly fell over when he hurried to his feet, but it wasn’t anything new. Most of his fingers were sporting at least one bandaid, and there was a large bandage covering his left elbow from the last time he’d eaten pavement. It wasn’t that he was clumsy - he just saw things better from a distance and his feet and potential obstacles were too damn close.

The guy who was too adorable and too tired for his own good was one person away from placing his latest ill-considered coffee order. Clint ignored the mumbled protests of the people behind the guy and sidled up to the object of his attention. “Hey, so you look like shit,” he said, which was maybe not the best place to start.

The guy looked over at him, and Clint couldn’t help but let out a low whistle. Up close he looked even more tired, and it took a lot not to just pull him into a hug and tell him it would be alright. “Thanks?” he finally said after a beat of silence.

”Look, I didn’t mean… your eyes are really pretty and you’re super attractive no matter what, but right now you just… look really shitty.” The guy looked wearily amused, like he might be cracking jokes if he wasn’t so tired and distracted. “When’s the last time you had food? Real food, not the crap they serve here. No offense,” he said over his shoulder to the scowling cashier that was waiting for the guy to step up and order.

The guy opened his mouth to answer, then seemed to stutter to a stop. He blinked, blinked again, then lifted his hands to count on his fingers. Fingers that were only revealed because the sleeves of a baggy, comfortable looking sweatshirt had fallen back. Clint just couldn’t take it anymore, so he sighed and took hold of the guy’s wrist.

”Hey, my name’s Clint and I want to feed you. Come with me and I’ll buy you something with actual nutrition. As a bonus, you won’t have to deal with classwork for at least an hour.”

”Can I help you?” the girl at the register snapped out, and that seemed to decide the guy. He nodded at Clint, other hand lifting to slide under his glasses to rub at one eye. It was so fucking cute that Clint nearly imploded - this guy was ridiculous. Digging into his back pocket, he grabbed a couple ones and shoved them in the tip jar before gently tugging the guy out of the line.

”You want breakfast food or lunch food?”

”What time is it?” the guy asked, and when Clint glanced over his shoulder at him, the guy looked confused with a tiny moue of discontent on his lips.

”You know what? Executive decision. People who don’t know what time it is get breakfast food. What’s good for alcohol hangovers has to be good for too-much-studying-and-stress hangovers.”

”I guess. Can there be pancakes?” The hope in the guy’s voice just killed Clint, killed him dead, and he again had to fight the urge to wrap the guy up in a hug.

”There can be as many pancakes as you want,” he said as he squeezed the guy’s wrist instead. “Like, stacks. With maple syrup, or jam I guess if you’re a gross disgrace to this fine nation--”

”Pancake toppings are a sign of patriotism? Because maple syrup seems more Canadian than American.”

”Canadians are Americans that are too polite to survive here in the States,” Clint told him flippantly. The guy started to laugh, which included and adorable giggle-snort that killed Clint dead again. Even better, the guy shifted so he could tuck his palm against Clint’s before tangling their fingers together.

It also made him feel concerned again, because the guy didn’t know him from Adam and they were holding hands and headed to an unspecified location that could turn out to be a warehouse where he harvested the guy’s organs. It was totally something that he himself would do, but he was a walking human disaster. Nat thought so at least, though she said it in a fond way. The point was that he did dumb things that he would pretty strongly recommend against to other people. The thought made him come to a stop so he could look back into those pretty eyes framed by glasses and sigh. “Do you need to tell anyone where you’re headed?” he asked gently.

The guy blinked up at him yet again, and hey he had nice eyelashes too. “Oh. Yeah, I should probably tell Rhodey. Where are we going?”

”You are a precious cinnamon roll and it is now my mission to protect you from a world that does not deserve you,” Clint decided out loud, giving the guy’s calloused fingers a squeeze. At first his declaration prompted only more blinking, and then a way too cute blush graced the guy’s cheeks.

”Um. Thanks? … and where are we going so I can tell Rhodey?

”Oh! Right. Sorry. There’s this dinky little diner that’s just down the block from the campus entrance. Looks like a shit hole, but they’ve got the best breakfast food for miles around. You’re not allowed to have coffee,” he said, punctuating the words with another squeeze of the guy’s fingers. “You need some sleep.”

”Jeeze, you and Rhodey both. What is with the crusade against caffeine?” Clint didn’t dignify that with a response, choosing instead to roll his eyes. The guy didn’t let go of Clint’s hand while he fumbled with his phone, which was cute and sweet and ridiculous. While the guy started calling he also started walking, tugging Clint along in his wake. “Sourpatch? Hey. So I’m not gonna meet you after all. … No, I’m not getting more coffee,” he said after a pause, sounding deeply offended.

Clint snorted, loudly, because this guy was really something else. The guy looked back over his shoulder and smiled. It was enough to make Clint trip over his feet, which was a little embarrassing but also earned him another little giggle-snort, so he could live with it.

“Huh? Oh, that was Clint. He’s taking me for breakfast food. … yeah, I totally knew that it’s almost three. And anyway, breakfast food is always good. He promised me pancakes. We’re going to the diner near the campus entrance. … No, I don’t need you to come and eat with us, _mother_. He’s the one who said I should call you. Yup. … uh-huh. Will do. Bye sourpatch.”

The guy hung up and shoved his phone into his pocket before hiding a yawn in his left sweater paw. Now that he wasn’t facing down another too-big cup of coffee and a wrestling match with his dissertation - probably, Clint was guessing - the guy seemed to be slowly succumbing to his clear lack of sleep. “Okay. So we’re totally doing pancakes, but after that you should let me walk you to your dorm or put you in a taxi or whatever so you can go take a nap.”

”Don’t need a nap,” the guy grumbled while shifting so he could lean into Clint’s side as they walked. “I need to finish my--”

”Nope! No school talk. We’re having a nice, relaxing late lunch that consists of breakfast food while we talk about anything except school. And then you are going to take your adorable butt home to take a nap. Give your brain some rest and room to breathe before you keel over.”

”I’m fine,” the guy told him as he smothered another yawn, then rubbed at his eye again. “Could go another two days without any sleep.”

”Well that’s just dumb,” Clint said while rolling his eyes again. “Sleep is super important. Like, the most important thing after food that isn’t shit from the student center and drinks other than coffee. I love sleep - I’d do it all day if I could. Me and my dog are both champion nappers, and I can tell you that it makes life a thousand percent better.”

”Nuh-uh,” the guy returned, sparking off a super-mature round of the ‘yuh-huh’ ‘nuh-uh’ game. Both of them were apparently stupid-stubborn, because the not-fight lasted until they got to the diner. It only really ended because the waitress who came to give them menus looked really judgemental and unimpressed with the well-reasoned, well-spoken debate. Even then, Clint felt a last ‘nuh-uh’ mumbled against his shoulder.

Because the guy had completely bypassed the other booth and climbed in after Clint. Once there he had pretty much turned into a limpet and glommed onto him, face smooshed against Clint’s shoulder. When his glasses got in the way the guy took them off and put them on the table, rubbing at his eyes with one sweater covered hand before collapsing against Clint again. He was too cute to fight with anymore, so Clint let it go.

”Do you want anything besides pancakes?” he asked the guy, speaking mostly into his hair.

”French fries and hot chocolate.”

It sort of defeated the whole ‘breakfast for our super late lunch’ thing, but whatever, Clint could roll with it. “Got it. You want some orange juice too? Because I feel like maybe eating fruit is not a priority.”

”Excuse you. I eat blueberries all the time.”

”Okay then, we’ll nix the orange jui--”

”I didn’t say I didn’t want the orange juice,” the guy said, tipping his head back just enough to look up at Clint. If he had still been super hot like those first few days when Clint had been watching him, that look would be devastating. It would have made Clint think all kinds of dirty thoughts and he would have been totally down with making them a reality. With the guy being all adorable and sleepy and cute though, Clint just wanted to kiss his forehead and tuck him into bed.

”So we’re gonna go with the orange juice then,” Clint said, smiling at their approaching waitress. “Hey! So can we get two orders of pancakes - uh, the stack with six, not three - and some french fries? Also some hot chocolate, a glass of orange juice, and two eggs over-easy? Oh, and hash browns.”

”Hash browns are french fries pretending to be potatoes,” the guy mumbled, which was adorable but also weird and completely wrong for a couple different reasons. “Just eat some of my fries.”

’Hash browns’, Clint mouthed over his head - the waitress smiled and gave him a wink as she scribbled on her pad. She repeated their order and got it perfect, so Clint was pretty happy with her service. She - Tracy, her name tag said Tracy - was going to get a really nice tip. It was what Nat would want.

”So after we’re done eating, am I getting you to a dorm or piling you into a taxi?” he asked after the waitress had left them again. “Because you, my friend, need a nap the way you need oxygen.”

”Do not. And you can walk me home, don’t need a taxi. I live pretty close.” Clint heavily suspected that he might have to carry the guy towards the end of their walk, but that was fine. “Dorms are dumb. They didn’t let me make things explode.”

”... how unreasonable of them?” Clint guessed, finding that it was his turn to blink stupidly. Riling up the guy who was intoxicated on account of lack of sleep didn’t seem like a good idea. It was better to go along with the crazy. “Public safety should definitely be secondary to your right to make things go boom.”

”See? You get it. How come nobody else does?”

”I dunno. Maybe they just aren’t as smart as you.”

”Nobody is, it‘s why I’m getting my Phd so young. Go me. ‘N go Rhodey, ‘cause he’s smart too even if he’s old. When will there be pancakes?”

”Soon as they’re done cooking,” Clint assured him, daring to lift one hand to run through the guy’s unruly locks. “Probably just a couple more minutes.” The guy grumbled wordlessly and smooshed his face even harder against Clint’s shoulder. “I know I’m all in favor of naps, but maybe wait to take one until we eat and you tell me a safe, comfy place where I can take you. Deal?”

”Kay. But only if I get my pancakes soon.”

”Pancakes aren’t here, but we’ve got orange juice and hot chocolate incoming,” Clint said, which made the guy sit up and blink owlishly at Tracy as she approached. One tuft of hair was now standing up in a wildly different direction from the rest, and Tracy was clearly killed as dead by the cuteness as Clint was because she cooed at the guy while setting down his drinks.

Clint had sort of thought that they would spend their meal talking, with him carefully steering the guy away from heavy dissertation- or thesis-related subjects. Instead it was a quiet meal, one where the guy mostly seemed to doze against his shoulder in between sipping at his drinks and taking bites of his pancakes. The guy’s french fries were sadly neglected, so in the end Clint had to eat them _and_ his hash browns. Not that he was complaining.

The guy also stole half of Clint’s pancakes which was a little less okay, but he was willing to let it go this once. Well, probably forever with this guy, because he tried so adorably hard to keep his theft on the down-low. He would wait until he thought Clint was looking elsewhere, then slowly - so slowly - go in with his fork, darting looks up at Clint the whole time. Sometimes it was hard to keep ‘looking away’ long enough for the guy to finish the job, but he managed.

By the end of their meal, the guy looked content and drowsy; Clint was quietly making plans to steal him and take care of him forever. It had worked when it came to Lucky, and if the guy protested being stolen Clint would totally let him go.

When the bill came, the guy tried to grab it. Clint had to practically wrestle the guy to get it in his possession, which was when the guy looked up at him with wide, watery eyes. “You’re going to pay?” he asked, voice warbling. Alarmed, Clint held up his hands, making sure to keep firm hold of the check.

”Yeah? I mean, I was the one who stole you from the cooffe line, so it’s only right that I pay. Plus I am currently rich - I got a whole sixty bucks and some change in my pocket.” The guy’s lower lip trembled again, and Clint just… he really didn’t know what to do.

”Nobody ever pays,” the guy whispered before rubbing at both eyes with his adorable sweater paws. “I always... “

”Those people are assholes,” Clint said with a shrug. “You shouldn’t do things with them anymore, because they suck. Do things with me instead. I mean, usually what I have in my pocket is only enough for a coffee which is kind of ironic, but still.” The guy didn’t reply, but he leaned hard into Clint’s side again as he pulled on his glasses.The bill wasn’t too bad, but Clint had a pocket full of cash and nothing else to spend it on.

So he put all three crisp twenties Nat had given him half under a plate along with the bill. He then gave the man a gentle nudge out of the booth - it took another before he slide out, because the guy was staring at the hefty tip he was leaving.

It was good to be rich but wealth was fleeting so Clint didn’t look back as he gently herded the guy out of the restaurant. They didn’t hold hands again after the guy fumble-mumbled his address, but Clint was pretty damn happy with the alternative. The guy had immediately pressed himself against Clint’s side and hidden his face in Clint’s shoulder, so it only made sense to wrap an arm around him. He didn’t even make fun of the times Clint stumbled on uneven pavement or because he momentarily got distracted by far-off sights.

Clint was still a bit concerned by the way the guy had just gone with him and was now showing Clint where he lived. If he ever got to talk to the guy when he was awake and not a grad student zombie, Clint was going to mention what a bad idea all that had been. Just then though, he had a feeling the guy wouldn’t even understand _why_ he really shouldn’t have done any of it.

The guy ended up living in a pretty swanky apartment building, which briefly gave Clint pause. The guy who wore jeans and over-large sweaters and adorable glasses didn’t seem to fit there. Clint, in his dirty sneakers, jeans with ripped knees and fingers covered in bandages _definitely_ didn’t. Despite that feeling of not-belonging that had settled uneasily in his stomach, Clint didn’t say goodbye to the guy at the outside door.

Nope, he walked right in and bravely ignored the way a few people glared at him as the guy mumbled directions. He totally wasn’t dreading the idea of walking back out on his own, because he had every right to walk a… friend? Potential love interest? Stray? Whatever the guy was to him, Clint had every right to walk him home in his time of need.

When they got to the guy’s apartment, he glared at the door like it had insulted his mother. “We got here quick,” he said. To Clint it sounded more like a complaint than anything. “Who am I supposed to snuggle with when I get inside?”

Clint was aware enough of societal norms not to offer to come in for the guy to use as a pillow. It was a close thing though, which showed that they were kind of peas in a pod. If Clint was as tired as the guy was, he totally would have gone into that apartment without a second thought. He’d done crazier things while sleep deprived or drunk than let someone take him to lunch and then home.

”I dunno. Maybe you could call that Rhodey person or snuggle with a pillow. All I know is that you need a nap. Do you remember how keys work, or are you too sleepy?”

The guy looked up at him, frowning thoughtfully, then dug around in his pocket again. “Help?” he asked after fishing out a key, holding it in front of Clint’s face. “I remember how keys work,” he added while burrowing further into Clint’s side. “But you’re warm and I don’t wanna let go yet.”

Again with the making Clint dead, which was just not fair. If he were a cat he’d be on his last life by now. As it was, any second now his spirit would be leaving his body to ascend to another plane. He took the offered key - which was hot rod red with a design of golden circuits - and used it to open up the guy’s door. He absolutely was not going inside though, because that was the boundary he’d set for himself and he was fully capable of respecting boundaries, _Natasha_.

”Okay, door is open and you are free to go nap. Don’t set any alarms unless you have like, medication to take or a super important thing to go to, okay? Just let yourself sleep for a while. And hey,” he added while tucking the key back into the guy’s pocket. “Make sure you lock the door when you get inside, alright?”

”Sure thing mom,” the guy said while decidedly not stepping away from Clint. “Hey, do you wanna--”

”What I want is for you to go inside, lock your door, and take a nap. Might also want your name and your phone number if you’re cool with giving them to me.”

”... you don’t know my name?”

”Nope. I call you ‘that guy who kills me with cuteness’ in my head. So.”

”Tony,” the guy told him, doing that thing where he was staring up at Clint in wonder again. It was a little bit weird, but now ‘the guy’ had a name which was awesome.

”Tony… I like it. I’m still Clint. Should I wait to ask for your number until I see you in the studen-- woah!” The way Tony was suddenly sticking his hands in Clint’s pockets was maybe bringing the sexy back, but Clint valiantly pushed the thought away. Tony was only going for his phone, which Clint obligingly unlocked when Tony stuck it in his face.

Tony had plugged in his number and sent himself a text almost before Clint could blink. When Tony tried to put his phone back though, Clint regained himself and took it from Tony and slipped it in his own pocket instead. “Call me maybe?” Tony asked breathlessly, hopefully, pretty eyes big behind those adorable glasses. “Or text. I’m not picky.”

”You can bet the farm that I’ll get in touch,” Clint told him in a drawl. “Now go inside and get some sleep. Don’t forget to lock the door. Oh, and maybe let that Rhodey person know that you got home safe before you go to bed.”

”Yeah. Okay.” Tony pulled away though he was clearly reluctant to do so, then took a step towards his doorway. “Thanks for my breakfast-lunch. And for everything else too.”

”No problem. I’ve been wanting to wrap you up in blankets and put you to bed for like, a week now. So really I should be thanking you. Now get your butt inside please,” he said, grinning so Tony knew he was only teasing.

”Kay.” Tony turned away to go inside, and Clint again fought the urge to follow him. He should probably just turn around and walk away, but he wanted to make sure Tony locked the door before he left. Tony got halfway through the door, then hovered there uncertainly for a moment. Just as Clint was about to ask what was wrong, he turned around and threw himself toward Clint.

Catching Tony was easy, especially with the way Tony turned into a barnacle again. Or maybe a koala bear, because they were also cute enough to kill Clint dead. What caught Clint off guard, what really knocked him for a loop, was what happened next.

Tony leaned up and stole the sweetest, shortest kiss Clint had ever had. It was over almost before he knew it was happening, but it still lingered on his lips and made him want more. “Call me,” Tony demanded again, then turned and fled into his apartment. All Clint could do was stand there, staring after him and blinking dumbly. The door shut and he heard it lock, but he still couldn’t move.

Tony had kissed him. Tony had kissed him and wanted Clint to call him, and they were in an apartment building that Clint had no business being in and Clint had bought him lunch at a shitty diner. He was way out of his league… but Tony had kissed him.

He let himself smile as he turned to walk away, and soon he was whistling a merry tune on his way out of the building. As soon as he was a safe distance away and couldn’t go rushing back to Tony’s door, he pulled out his phone.

The text he sent was simple. It was just a ‘sleep well’ message along with an emoji that was sleeping - you could tell because of the ‘z’s. He didn’t get a response right away, but that was fine. He hoped it meant that Tony was either letting Rhodey know he was safe or that he was already asleep. Either thing was a good, and he would take it.

He thought about calling Nat right away to enthuse about his adorable new love interest, but thought better of it. She might remember that favor and call it in right then, and Clint just wanted to bask.

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote tis fic on my Chromebook at my mom's house - I'm dog-sitting, you see. So the whole time, the dog was on top of me which was... fun. My mom's wifi is out, which is even better. Being the innocent child of the 90s and early 2000s I am, I assumed it could be hooked up to the internet via a cable - everything came with that feature for like, my whole life. Not my Chromebook tho!! 
> 
> So I got to be really frustrated and try a million different things to get my offline Google Doc onto my phone. Did not work. So then I entered the fascinating world of hotspots and tethering. It was great. So this took me ALL DAMN DAY and well into the evening. It is almost 3:30. I've aged ten years. Angry-watched the State of the Union Address, which did not help my mood.
> 
> In short, the past 24 hours has been not fun. If you like this maybe leave a comment to make me feel better? :'D
> 
> Also, I have a [Tumblr](http://tahlreth.tumblr.com) if you wanna come say hi or leave a prompt or something. <3


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